Opposition; Aemond Targaryen

𝓽𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽𝔂 𝓯𝓲𝓿𝓮; 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓾𝓵𝓮𝓻

An entire moon had passed since Naerys Velaryon became Naerys Targaryen and two moons since becoming Queen Naerys Targaryen of the Seven Kingdoms. Aemond admired how she ruled with a firm reign but remained as gentle as her soft heart. She took every opportunity to improve the city, as much as she could from Dragonstone, without formally being named Queen in front of the Seven. Her people felt listened to, heard, and they sang songs of their fair queen, even singing songs for their fierce king. Naerys was the tongue, but Aemond was the sword, her sword. 

Aemond sat outside on the ledge of a balcony, observing the rough waves crashing below him. He wasn't sure who the room belonged to, but they could not really tell their king to go away anyway so he chose to continue sitting where he was. His long silver hair was blowing in different directions, slapping against his face as the winds roared but the only thing on his mind was how he ended up where he was.

He thought of his mother, wondering what she was doing, more so what she was planning, or what his grandsire was planning and what his mother was agreeing to in blind rage. No one had heard a word from Alicent Hightower or Otto, however they had definitely been attempting to send a message with the attacks on the houses that supported Naerys' reign. Several important lords had ended up injured or dead. Aemond had actually been sent on Naerys' behalf alongside Daemon and Jacaerys to the fallen lords' homes as a sign of support from the royals. He had gone to battle and returned, but not without new scars. 

His most recent scar or rather, wound that would turn into a scar was a shallow stab wound on his ribcage, courtesy of Lord Lannister's men, he felt it was owed seeing as Aemond had in fact not married his own daughter and was named traitor by his grandsire. Aemond was disgusted at the fact that the measly man had managed to harm him, but he came from behind him while he was engaged in combat with another. If Daemon had not been nearby screaming at him to turn around, he would not be lounging on the ledge of a stranger's balcony.

Naerys was confused when the battle had ended and her husband burst through the throne rooms doors, ghastly white and an arm wrapped around her brother as Jacaerys drug Aemond to the maester, screaming at him to help the king. She was enraged when she found out Lord Lannister had ordered his men to kill her husband, so enraged she rushed to Aemond, softly brushing his bloodied hair back before hardening her gaze and storming from the room, her queenly gown rustling with such force Aemond was upset he could not see straight from the blood loss, but he was sure she looked beautiful. He heard guards moving behind her as Halaena cleaned his face with a rag,

"Easy brother, she will return" she had told him as he fought against her, scoffing as she gently cleaned his face. He didn't need to be cleaned, he needed to take care of his wife, she had a temper, they knew that. 

When she returned later that night, Aemond had been resting in bed when the doors to their chambers slammed open. He scrambled to put his eye patch on but his battered body would not allow him to rise so easily, only relaxing when he noticed it was his wife. 

She was covered in dragon soot and her hair was absolutely wind blow, but she looked fierce in her war clothes, hair messy, and a look of hatred on her face. She crossed to him effortlessly, stripping herself of her armor,

"Where have you been, issa jelmazma?" (my storm) He had asked her.

She lifted her bloodied hand, cupping his face as she lowered her head to his, placing a gently kiss to his lips as their foreheads rested against each other.

"Casterly Rock is no more." She exhaled tiredly, Aemond's eye had widened, his sapphire sparkling against the amber embers lighting the dark room, "What have you done?"  Naerys had sat up straight, staring him in the eye as the words left her mouth.